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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26815816">Must Be Doing Something Right</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jencsi/pseuds/jencsi'>jencsi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>CSI: Crime Scene Investigation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:34:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,661</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26815816</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jencsi/pseuds/jencsi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Post coma wear and tear.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julie "Finn" Finlay/Nick Stokes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Must Be Doing Something Right</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Daylight seeps through his thick grey floor length curtains that are pulled shut as best as they can be. He sits on the edge of his bed, facing her sleeping frame, nestled under a fitted sheet, a cotton blanket and a comforter, a triple layer of warmth and protection he always slept with but since found a new liking of when she arrived into his world. This process is going to be slow and painful for her, as it is every morning when he must wake her for what little breakfast she consumes. He starts slowly, resting his hand on her back, patting gently as he whispers “morning sweetness” to her. Her usual sigh of annoyance comes first, followed by her grumbling as she begins to move her body under the covers, stirring. She turns over, still wrapped in the blankets, laying on her back, hair pooling wildly on the pillow her head rests on. She brings her hands up to her face and covers her eyes with her palms, cursing the slivers of light shining through the curtains. </p><p>	She rubs her eyes for a few seconds, adjusting to the new day yet still feeling trapped by this coma and all of it’s after effects. She feels his hands slide under her back as he prepares to help her sit up, a motion she cannot do alone nor without substantial pain and discomfort and it sickens her to feel this helpless. He begins to lift her body away from the mattress, cradling her with ease and support. He brings her to him, sturdy arms keeping her sitting upright while her eyes and face stay mostly hidden by her own hands. In transit, he feels the fabric of her shirt, soft and delicate, as it sticks to her back. He tugs on the material to readjust it and hopefully bring her some small comfort. She feels his fingers brush against her back at different times, putting pressure on common sore spots, massaging out the stiffness from sleep, her whimpers let him know when he’s found a tender spot that needs more attention in this aching recovery process. </p><p>	He continues to work his hands up her back and to her shoulders, pressing down with two fingers, moving over the muscles in a circle, reaching her shoulder blades which send a chill down her back at this tender comfort. She finally seems to adjust to the light and she lowers her hands away from her face. She does so just in time for him to lean in and brush his cheek against hers, nudging to be playful. The skin to skin contact in this moment makes her feel something different than the other mornings. It’s a tender motion, something so incredibly soft and delicate, unlike anything she’s ever felt before. She doesn't know how to explain why this particular motion and affection has touched her soul so beautifully, but it does. He lingers with his cheek against hers, rubbing softly, perhaps taking in some of her warmth from sleep or trying to be playful when his beard scratches against her skin, tickly. She doesn’t want him to stop, but he shifts to press his lips to her cheek, nuzzling in. She could fall back into this bed and sleep for an eternity with him this close to her, this soft and caring. What did she do to deserve this level of dedication and care? </p><p>	Silently, his hands work through her hair, fingers scratching against her aching skull. She can tell he’s trying to be extra careful with this motion in such a delicate spot that is still healing from such a brutal attack. But she adores what she’s feeling, from the shiver down her spine to the tingling in her stomach. How did she get so lucky? </p><p> </p><p>	The odd mixture of thoughts in her head don’t seem to match up correctly. She feels blessed to have him in her life yet at the same time, a pang of guilt interrupts the pleasurable tingling in her stomach, ruining the moment. She hates being this helpless, hates that he has to sit her up and help her eat and move around. She hates that all her body wants to do is sleep. Her brain is foggy but her heart is aching to love and be normal again. </p><p>	Instinctively, she face plants back into his chest now, taking in the softness of his t-shirt, how wonderful that feels against her forehead and her cheek when she turns and rubs her face against the material. It smells fresh, like the laundry, but like him, cologne, the same smells that make her go weak in the knees whenever they worked together and were trying to keep their relationship secret. She finds the strength to lift her weak arms and wrap around his shoulders, to his neck, clinging, trying to reciprocate love when she can but stifling a cry in pain at just this small movement. </p><p>	“It’s okay,” he soothes her after all this time in silence, knowing how difficult it is for her to move, especially first thing in the morning. </p><p>	She tries to find the right moment to tell him; from the time he brings her a tray of food for breakfast in bed, to the lunch they share at the kitchen counter hours later after she’s slept for a few more hours. Lather, rinse, repeat for the time between lunch and dinner and her bath then back to bed. </p><p>	She slips out of bed after nine o’clock, shuffling down the stairs, gripping the railing with a weak grasp. She finds him watching television in the living room. Sam the german shepherds ears perk up when he sees her and he lifts his head, tail wagging. Nick notices Sam before he notices her and he turns to see her as she plops down on the couch beside him. </p><p>	“Hey,” he says softly “were you calling for me? I’m sorry if I didn’t hear you.”</p><p>		“No,” she soothes him “no I’m fine up there, I just um, well I wanted to come down to tell you something.”</p><p>	“Okay,” he says, turning off the TV to listen to her. </p><p>“I want to go home,” she confesses. </p><p>	“You are home,” he corrects her and her heart aches with a terrible pain at what she’s about to say. </p><p>	“No,” she cries “I want to go back to my condo.”</p><p>		“All right,” he agrees, misunderstanding her “I’ll pack up some stuff and we can hang there for a few days.”</p><p>	“No,” she says again, breaking her own heart with each protest “I think it’s best if I go there and, and stay there,  myself, and you stay here.” </p><p>	He makes a face of confusion as she keeps speaking. </p><p>		“I can’t do this to you anymore,” she sobs “this, this- </p><p>She waves her hands around the living room, unable to sum up what's happened since May and her reawakening. </p><p>	“You- you deserve better,” she rips the final wound into her heart and his. </p><p>Her breath hitches as tears sting her eyes, threatening to fall. </p><p>He sighs because he expected this. This is one of those “I should probably sweep her up in my arms and hold her” moments but he has a better idea. He sits up on the couch and shifts closer to her. </p><p>	“I know why you think that,” he begins quietly “I felt the same way after I was rescued, every time Catherine came over to bring me new bed sheets, every time Sara brought me food or offered to cook for me, every time Greg came over to play cards and Warrick and I played Madden for hours on this couch, every time Grissom asked me to look over his lecture notes to see if he missed anything, they were all doing everything they could to try and help me feel normal again.” </p><p>	He pauses, watching her face for any distress. </p><p>“That’s different,” she chokes out “those are your friends, we’re together, and you should be with someone who isn’t helpless.” </p><p>This is what’s really bothering her, this is the root of all evil that has slithered across her beautiful heart and made its home there, festering like a disease, sucking the life out of her. But he knows better. </p><p>“Why would I want anyone other than you?” he asks “do you know how long I’ve waited for someone like you? My heart had to hold on for a long time, sweetness, through all that darkness, all those nights, it was waiting so I could live with and live for you, there is no one I would rather love through this than you.” </p><p> </p><p>	This would be one of those moments where she sobs and throws herself at him in a mess of tears. But she doesn't. She bites the inside of  her cheek, forcing the tears to settle as she realizes how foolish they both were. As if this morning's tender care wasn’t enough to assure her that she was safe here, loved here, wanted here, he reminded her with the words she needed to hear. </p><p>	She looks at the dark TV now and asks “What were you watching?” </p><p>“Game highlights,” he says, reaching for the remote to turn it back on. </p><p>	“Room for one more?” she asks, biting her lip now. </p><p>“Always,” he says, leaning back on the couch, waiting for her to settle in his lap, her head on his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck to relax and show him she understands and loves him for what he's done for her. </p><p>	For all their faults, all their doubts and self conscious moments, they make a perfect pair. They want the same things for each other and they have enough affection between them to turn their aching hearts into mush. They will always slip up and fear rejection from one another but in between those moments of fear come beautiful ones like today. Clearly they were doing something right.</p>
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